


another day

by capulets



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: And A Crush Before Understanding What A Crush Is, Background Everyone Else, F/M, Full Crush Denial, Mini Jiara To Middle School To Freshmen, Sorry About These Tags, This Is Me Digging Into Characters And Objects, ambiguous-ish ending, before season one, semi song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:01:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25530262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capulets/pseuds/capulets
Summary: every day is another chance to give away the secrets they keep to themselves.or, alternatively, a look at jj and kiara’s relationship from the very beginning.(jiara week day one: precanon day)
Relationships: JJ & Kiara (Outer Banks), JJ/Kiara (Outer Banks)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49
Collections: Jiara July Jubilee





	another day

**Author's Note:**

> Of course I had to come out of my hobbit hole to participate in Jiara July, which is my first ship week ever so I’m super excited! The song that inspired this work is Jack and Jill by Katie Herzig. Just a warning, it takes on a darker tone towards the end so be advised. I actually attempted to edit this so all mistakes REALLY fall on me now lol. Please remember to go check out all of the other amazing content dropping this week and support all the authors writing! I hope this is alright for y’all, enjoy! 
> 
> XOXO,
> 
> capulets

_ something to say, daylight to kill _

**_(the secret of hair)_ **

  
The first time little JJ sees little Kiara, all he can think to do is yank on her hair. It isn’t his fault, not really; the hair looks  _ so soft _ , almost as if it’s begging him to reach out and grab it. He wants to see if it is soft like his mother’s. The girl won’t mind, his mom never does. She’s just standing there after all, in a little dress that reminds him of the ocean. The ocean reminds him of ice cream, happy days on the beach knocking down sand castles and tearing off down the beach after seagulls. His mother laughing, picking him up and swinging him around. Burying her face in the golden head of hair that (thank god) resembled her own. This girl’s hair is nothing like that. Hers, usually in braids, falls down today for whatever reason. It waves past her shoulders, curls swaying gently in the light breeze. The playground is loud and JJ is already roughhousing with two other boys. They’ve been running around, trying to catch each other. One has a shaggy head of hair and the other likes to talk about a lot of stuff JJ doesn’t really understand. That’s okay, though; he’s glad to have friends. The girl isn’t one of them, but he needs to pass her to get back to the boys. So he walks by, reaches out and tugs. A cry leaves the girl’s mouth and she whips around to face him, anger plain on her features. 

“ _ Don’t  _ touch my hair!” she yells, shoving him away a little bit. JJ blinks; he can’t see a problem with what he’s done. Before he can get a word out, she’s off, running around the playground with a pretty blonde girl who the girl with the soft hair calls Sarah. Despite the rough introduction, JJ feels satisfied with his experiment. 

When he gets home, he tells his mom all about the fun he’d had on the playground, and how the girl’s hair is the complete opposite of hers. He also informs her isn’t as soft.

(It’s just a little bit softer.)

_ they come tumbling down, tumbling after _

_**(the secret of mirrors)** _

The next time the pair sees each other in any meaningful sort of context, Kiara is in with the Pogues. Middle school is as awkward and stupid as everyone said it is, if not more. Lines are beginning to become clearer, but luckily, she hasn’t been separated from her boys yet. Her parents aren’t fond of the three young men their daughter chooses to spend their time with, except Pope, for some reason. John B lies a few steps away from second, and of course everyone already knows about the rumors surrounding Luke Maybank’s shotgun of a son. Still, they allow her to spend time after school at The Chateau and on the beach. She’s started helping out at The Wreck, learning the ropes of what she’ll be doing. It gives her more time with her dad, which means less time around the critiques her mother doles out. 

_ ‘Sit up, Kiara.’ _

_ ‘Really? You’re going to wear  _ _ that _ _ to school today? What about something a little classier, hm? At least  _ _ look _ _ like you’re trying, okay?’  _

_ ‘Do you know what your father and I sacrificed for you to be here? Behave.’  _

Her mom wants the best for her. The sentences are supposed to be helpful. And yet, they manage to sting like a bitch every time. She’s not even in high school and she’s already dealing with this on top of slowly increasing coursework and the threat of being sent to the Kook Academy her freshman year (an empty one by her mother, she’s positive). There’s only so much she can take before something inside of her snaps. 

The crushing blow comes the night of Kiara’s one and only middle school dance. After spending more time getting ready than she has in the past year combined, she makes the fatal mistake of looking in the mirror.   


Her mirror is full length. Taller than she is, so she can see every inch of herself inside of it. Most days, she barely spares it a glance. Tonight, she stands straight up like her mother told her to and looks. 

There’s makeup on her face. Her brown skin glows underneath the lights, natural features enhanced with blush, eyeshadow, mascara, highlight and more products than she’d ever use daily. Her hair, straightened and pulled back into a fancy updo, holds its place via sparkling pins. Her dress, off the shoulder and pink, brushes past her thighs. Floral lace covers every inch. Classic heels and a pretty necklace complete the ensemble. 

Kiara has never experienced the feelings swelling in her chest as she looks at herself, a panicked tide rising higher and higher. The anger, however, she is very familiar with. She felt it once before, on the playground when one of her friends saw fit to tug on her hair like he owned it. So she clings to it, turning swiftly on her heels and sprinting downstairs. She ignores her parents’ concerned calls, kicking off her shoes before jumping on her bike and pedaling rapidly. She ends up in front of the Chateau, bike sprawled out on the ground a few feet away. She can’t make it to the door so she sinks to the ground in her pink monstrosity instead. The soft fabric settles daintily on top of the dirt and grass. She almost laughs; even inanimate objects know Kooks and Pogues don’t mix. 

“Dude, you look like a Kook threw up on y — ”

A light comes on, her head snapping up with it. JJ Maybank stands frozen on the stairs. His eyebrows are furrowed, head tilted, and there’s definitely some anger in his eyes, but the slightest hint of… fear? Kiara reaches up, the water flowing down her cheeks coating her fingertips. When had she started crying? Doesn’t matter; it’s happening now. He approaches her slowly, like he’s scrambling to figure out what the hell is going on with her and how to deal with it. She isn’t surprised his next words to her are, “Who do I need to kill?”

“You know murder isn’t gonna solve anything, right?” she snarks back, but there isn’t an edge to her words. She’s going through the motions, and that scares her. She’s shutting down and she doesn’t know how to stop it.

“Says you. It’s solved a shit ton of things before.”

He sits on the ground, a few feet away from her. 

“Name one time murder has solved something, JJ, one.”

“It  _ could  _ solve something  _ right now _ , Kie.” 

That draws a laugh from her. It’s a torn up chuckle, ripped apart by the thoughts still plaguing her mind. It crunches like broken glass, hiccuping out from her mouth. Out of the corner of her eye, she thinks she sees him smile. But she’s hunched over, face buried amongst the tulle around her knees, arms clutching them close to her chest. It’s probably a trick of the moonlight. 

Her sobbing turns to sniffling, lightening up as time goes on. She still can’t look at him, not now. Even this young, Kiara believes people should cry if they want to. But she’s not a crier. And he knows this. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t nudge him away when he tentatively wraps an arm around her. Or why she leans into him when the sniffling escalates into sobbing again. Perhaps it’s the reason for her arms clutching his waist, pulling herself tightly against his frame. He’s grown harder, more solid since she last saw him. Less of the scrawny boy she’s grown up with, more of the soon-to-be-high school student. But when he’s holding onto her, she’s positive he’s still the same JJ. The one who laughs the loudest, comes up with the craziest plans, would follow his friends to the end of the Earth. 

“You’re not one of them, Kie,” he mumbles into her hair, and she isn’t sure whether he’s trying to convince her or himself, “You’re not a Kook.” 

She has no idea how long they stay out there for. After they stand up, her tears vanish and she’s got a stolen beer in her hand out on the hammock, watching JJ light up. Neither of them says a word for a while. In fact, the last sentence between them is a whispered, “Thank you,” from Kiara. She’s slipping beside him in the hammock, settling down for the night. He’s not meant to hear it, or feel the featherlight kiss she presses to his cheek. 

(The tiniest pause of his shoulders makes her think he does.) 

_ time ticked away the way that it will _

_**(the secret of docks)** _

This will not be the last time he sees Kiara. It can’t be. She told them she was going to the Kook Academy last week, and hell yes, he was pissed. What the fuck was he supposed to be? Happy for her? He  _ knows  _ Kiara (not that he’ll ever admit that, but it’s true). He knows how she feels about the Kooks, how they'll either chew her up and spit her out or make her one of them. Kie’s one of the strongest people he’s ever met (if anyone can ride a wave with  _ almost  _ as much finesse as him, that demands his respect). The Kooks are a different breed, though. He’s not trying to White Knight the situation but Pogues look out for other Pogues. They can’t look out for her when she’s knee deep in enemy territory. John B and Pope reacted better than him. He’d heard them comforting her and making plans for a kickass summer after he’d stormed out. He ignored any texts or calls, but it occurred to him all at once that tonight is Kiara’s last night with them and if he doesn’t see her  _ right now,  _ he’s gonna regret it. Since JJ doesn’t do regrets, he texts her to meet him at the dock. He isn’t sure whether she’ll show up or not, but lo and behold there she is. 

Kiara Carrera, hair down and a mix of her curls and a couple of decorative braids. She’s in an old t-shirt and ratty jean cut offs, all of her friendship bracelets visible on her wrist. She looks like herself, and that’s good. He doesn’t dwell on the slight leap in his chest when he realizes she looks really fucking happy to see him. 

“Hey,” she says, leaning against one of the semi upright poles. 

“Hey,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“You don’t have to go, you know,” he adds, and he hides the horror he feels at those words having escaped with a nonchalant shrug.

“Yes, I do,” she sighs, and he gets it. Another thing he knows about Kiara (because he knows her) is that she loves her parents. She hates disappointing them, and she really has no choice but to go. 

“It’ll be fine, though. Nothing’s gonna change.” 

She sounds so confident. He almost believes the smile she gives him. 

“I’m serious, JJ,” Kiara presses on, stepping over to him, eyes beginning to burn, “I’m not one of them.”

He flashes back to that night, when he’d basically told her as much. JJ knows Kiara isn’t a Kook. She isn’t a Kook  _ right now _ , but if she leaves, she could become one. And there will be no more surf sessions, no more boat rides, no more movie nights at the Chateau. 

No more dances at the Boneyard. No more side glances. No more bandaging each other up, no more brushing fingers, no more braiding her hair. No more touching that hair that is still softer than he  _ thinks _ he remembers his mom’s was. No more touching Kiara  _ period.  _

“I know,” JJ responds at last. 

_ I know you. _

“I’m still pissed you’re making me deal with teaching Pope how to flirt and whatever the hell John B dreams up alone, though.”

She rolls her eyes, nudging his shoulder with her own sharply, grumbling out, “You’ll be fine.” 

And he will. He’ll be fine. He’ll just be without her jokes and checking their masculinity and raving about the environment. Kiara steps back and he misses the warmth she brought with her. But he’ll be fine. 

Somehow he knows she won’t. But he pushes that away for the sake of sending his friend off with a vote of confidence. 

He sits there a long time after she leaves. The dock is old, wood worn down from years of weathering storms. It won’t tell anybody about JJ’s crush on his best friend (a horrible decision, really  but thankfully one she doesn’t know about). It won’t judge him for feeling sadder than he should after watching Kie leave for the last time in awhile. It holds him up, and he thinks he’s gotta be fucking losing it if he’s getting philosophical _without_ weed. So he rolls up a blunt and inhales.   


The familiar scent and feeling engulfs him and he savors it. The fuzziness starts to creep up, but all thoughts of Kiara continue to linger, floating around the middle of his high. Random memories pop up, but the one that stands out to him the most is the first day they met. He’d pulled on her hair, and it makes him laugh now. Life was so simple back then. Stupidly simple. His biggest worries were getting scraped up on the playground and whatever he was eating for lunch. The most pressing concern he’s got currently isn’t one he wants to divulge.   


He remembers that ocean blue dress, a lot clearer and cleaner than the water he’s staring down into. He remembers how mad she was at him. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give to go back to that day. Since he can’t, he contents himself with his weed featuring an extra hit of denial, because what good are feelings if she’s ditching him and JB and Pope for Kooks she doesn’t even know? The view is warped, twisted, like gazing down into the mirror of a lake full of ripples and trying to find his reflection. He figures he’s better off without it. All of it.  


It’s a long time before JJ gets up but when he does the weed’s gone and he needs something to do. He damn sure can’t call Kie back, or get the rest of the boys together. In all honesty, he needs to stop feeling. His feet carry him back towards the direction of his house. In the back of his hazy mind, he knows his mom’s long gone. She won’t be able to make this go away. Hopefully his dad asleep, and while that pauses his feet for a few seconds, he doesn’t stop walking. Because this is the circle of life. One bad idea leads to another and pretty soon it’s just another hole to crawl out of. He’ll dig himself out of it tomorrow. 

His phone lights up with one final text from Kie as he strolls up to his porch, and he smiles. It’s crazy how she almost knows when he’s going to do something reckless. 

One last secret to hold onto. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s leaving, though. So JJ goes ahead with the plan (retrieving his mom’s favorite blanket he’s got stashed deep in the recesses of his closet) because that’s the only option for him. When given a choice between something stupid and something not, he doesn’t think. 

He does it anyway.

He shuts off his phone and walks into the house. And even in the face of Luke Maybank, his last non-fearful thought is that he hopes Kie knows he’s gonna be okay. 


End file.
